


things we can't recall

by alpacas



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, additional warning for some anachronic order, aka the episode where nott very much against her will has to hang out underwater all day, also nott drinks a lot, and for dubious use of fjord's pov as he leads his expedition, contains no spoilers for later episodes shockingly, does contain a lot of swear words, for caleb getting slapped in his face, just kidding it was e.43 but i can't edit the tags, set during e.44 (the diver's grave)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 08:09:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17804276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alpacas/pseuds/alpacas
Summary: here it is, at last - the truth.





	things we can't recall

**Author's Note:**

> title adapted from '[passing afternoon](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q0dP7iZv9K0)' by Iron & Wine.
> 
>  
> 
> the entire story is written off of this exchange in e43, _In Hot Water_ :
> 
> FJORD: I try to catch Nott. How is she doing?  
> NOTT: [Eyes squeezed closed.]  
> FJORD: Are you breathing well? [I give her a—]
> 
> _(Nott has not taken a breath yet, actually.)_  
>     
> FJORD: [Gives a diver's sign for 'breathe.']  
> NOTT: [Shakes her head, eyes tightly shut.]
> 
> _(You get to a point, Nott, where your lungs hurt so much you cannot help but breathe in, and there is a moment of panic as suddenly water rushes into your lungs and the nightmare you've had many times kicks in…)_

 

They nearly have to jump in the ocean to fish Fjord back from the rails and onto the _Squall Eater_. It is agreed: they will venture into the shipwreck below in the morning.

 

 

 

 

Nott doesn't eat dinner that night. They're all gathered together in a cluster, going over the plan as they eat, the plan being: water breathing spell. Dive in. Find shit. Beau is the one willing to voice concern over breathing water — _like, if you say you have some magic shit, that's cool, but have you_ tried _it_? Caleb's read about such magics, so it's he rather than their caster who attempts to explain, using words other than _I don't fucking know, it's magic_. Beau leans in, nodding intently. Yasha leans in, looking relieved.

Nott doesn't eat a bite, even when Caduceus notices, searches for something she might find palatable — swaps out her potatoes and tack for some fruit verging on moldy. Some of the last of the jerky. Things the humans of the crew aren't desperate enough to eat, strong slightly fermented foods Nott's goblin tastes find appealing.

She smiles. Thanks him very politely.

Thinks about the feeling of water entering her lungs. Her nose. The impulse of her body to cough and struggle and push the water out in any way it could, and the water pouring in with each underwater cough. That is what it feels like to drown. That it what it feels like to die. That is what they will all face tomorrow. Don't you _get_ it? she wants to yell, leaping up on the table so she can look them all in the eye. Don't you fucking understand? Don't give me bullshit about buttons, you're asking us all to _go get murdered!_

But she doesn't.

 

 

 

 

Before bed, they have a routine, which is: Caleb wards the room, and Nott watches him. Sometimes, if she has new treasures, she'll take a moment to sort them. Decide which ones she likes and will keep, which ones she'll discard, which she'll save carefully and hold close and send home if they ever get off this fucking ship surrounded by fucking water. She's picky. Selective. She likes the process of deciding almost as much as the stealing.

Other nights, she'll rewrap her bandages, quickly, while Caleb's preoccupied, to minimize the exposure of her green skin and bony limbs. The same way she's always very careful to be busy when he changes his bandages. They both have things to hide.

Tonight: Caleb wards the room and Nott sits on the bed, knees bent up into her arms, chin in the little hollow between chest and limbs. When he's done he turns and sees her there and his expression softens.

"Are you worried about tomorrow?" he asks.

"Of course I'm fucking worried about tomorrow," she says into her knees.

He sits on the foot of the bed before her. Sighs a bit. "Have you reconsidered at all my suggestion?" she pulls back a little at the very word, and his face falls. "I do not wish to manipulate you, you know that, but I also do not wish for you to be so afraid, and that spell could help you, Nott the Brave."

The thing is, she kind of likes it when he calls her that. Just not nearly enough.

"It didn't help. I was still afraid," she says. "It's just that I was afraid of _you_ being disappointed with me, and not so much the water. And the water? Still sucked. By the way."

He looks pained; she watches from the space between the tops of her bandaged arms and the dark green curtain of her hair. "I will never be disappointed with you," he says.

Well, there's a lie, Nott thinks. Even if he doesn't know it yet. She concentrates really hard on her arms.

"Let's go to bed," says Caleb, quietly.

 

 

 

 

He lies awake for a very long time. She's awake much longer.

 

 

 

The next morning, Caleb wakes up to find Nott migrated in her sleep so that her head is more or less pushed into his armpit, her face set in a frown as she clutches his arm. He smiles — she's so fucking cute — and extracts himself carefully, planning his spells on the way to breakfast. He decides to let her sleep a bit longer.

At breakfast: Fjord is reviewing the plan ("we jump in and find the ship."). Jester and Orly are talking in the corner with a few of the crew. Caduceus sees Caleb enter and offers him tea and some mash for breakfast. Caleb sits at Beau and Yasha's table to eat (Beau: "here's the plan. We jump in and we find the ship"), then asks Caduceus for food he can bring to Nott.

"Is she coming?" Fjord calls over with somewhat justified incredulity.

"Yes, she is," Caleb says: she'd never said she wouldn't, and Nott may be frightened but he knows she is more than brave enough. "I'm just going to bring her breakfast."

"Not hungry," Nott says, slinking into the galley. She is holding her platinum flask in both hands, unscrewing the lid as she walks.

"Bit early to start drinking, isn't it?" Fjord asks.

"You get me in the water drunk or you don't get me at all," says Nott, punctuating by lifting her flask and then drinking from it for a solid thirty seconds: long enough for Fjord to sigh, catch Beau's eye, and look away, and for several of the crew to turn to look, impressed.

Caleb feels something in him go tight with worry, but she aggressively avoids his gaze when he approaches her, becoming very interested in both the flask and the ground even when he tries kneeling down:

When he does, she immediately turns and leaps onto a bench, then one of the long tables, raising her hands and flask in the air above her head. "Let's fucking do this thing!" she yells angrily. A few confused members of the crew cheer halfheartedly. Nott lowers her flask for another long drink of whiskey.

 

 

 

 

 

Even Fjord can't help but hold his breath when he hits the water. Fuck, who wouldn't? He knows the spell worked, feels it in him, coursing through him, felt it in the air on deck. But you hit water and you close your mouth and throat. He looks sideways at Jester, whose cloak and dress as billowing around her, one of her long sleeves drifting up and into her face; she looks around curiously, exhales a few bubbles.

A pair of splashes to his right and he sees Yasha, grim and miserable, followed closely by Caleb and Beau, with Nott only visible as a pair of arms and a pair of legs digging vicelike into Caleb's torso. He looks pained.

They all look around for a moment, every one of them holding their breath, and then Frumpkin swims up to Fjord and Fjord nods: time to fucking go. He leads the swim downwards, and after a few seconds he just kind of… opens his mouth. Not breathing water exactly, just letting some in, to see how it feels. Even he isn't sure the first breath will be easy — but then he does it, and huh, what do you fucking know: it's not water that pours into his mouth, but briny air.

The first breath isn't at all difficult, and the second even easier. Fantastic. Looking around, he can see the others all at about the same stage, judging by the looks of bewildered relief and excitement: "Can you hear meeeee?" Jester calls out, her voice too loud, uncertain of the result.

"This is fucking _amazing_ ," Beau calls back, and gives a barking laugh of delight at the sound of her own voice.

Caleb's expression is fascinated, he keeps looking at the water around them… and Nott's fingers are digging into his shoulders so tightly it looks like he's liable to start bleeding from it any second. Fjord frowns and swims over. He knows she's afraid of water, but —

Her green skin is pale and waxy, her eyes squeezed tight, her arms actually trembling, and Fjord's stomach fucking _falls_. The spell didn't work. She's not breathing. She's dying. What can he do? How fast can they haul ass back to the surface, they're not that far down yet, her limbs are starting to shake and he's regretting every step of this plan, because Nott's kind of a pain sometimes but hell, he doesn't want her _dead_ —

And all at once her grip on Caleb goes slack as a stream of bubbles erupt from her mouth and nose — and Nott breathes in just fine after all.

"Fuck," Fjord says, annoyed and impressed, treading water. "Fuck, Nott, you were holding your breath all this time?"

Nott's first breaths are gasping and short. Caleb is trying to turn around in the water to see her on his shoulders, but she pushes herself back against him, never opening her eyes, wrapping her little arms around his neck. She looks like some demon trying to choke him, almost.

Fjord sighs, glad she's okay, but fuck if she doesn't make any sense ever. "Okay there?" he asks her and Caleb at large.

"Yes, we're fine," Caleb says, still trying to look over his shoulder.

The others are treading water all around them. Fjord reaches out and pats Nott on the back, her body still heaving as she catches her breath. "You're doing fine," he says. "You good to keep going?"

She sort of nods into the back of Caleb's shoulders, her hair flowing everywhere like kelp.

"Here," Jester says, kicking her way over, taking a ribbon off her horn. She gathers up Nott's hair into a ponytail and ties it with the pink ribbon.

"Adorable," says Fjord. He kicks in the water, part of him still marveling over how comfortable this is, how nice it is: the water is cool but not cold, the salty taste weirdly comforting. It's all kind of awesome.

He also waits. "Let's get this the fuck over with," Nott mutters into Caleb's shoulderblades.

"You heard her. You heard Nott the Brave," Caleb says, giving Fjord a pointed sort of look. Frumpkin reappears, floating nearby.

"Sure thing," Fjord says, and leads the seven of them into deeper waters.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The cabin is windowless and small, smelling heavily and not unpleasantly of wood and salt water. There had been two cots, to Caleb's advantage: even one would have been easy enough for a man, a cat (turned octopus), and a goblin girl to share. The extra pushed against it makes for luxury he thinks he can grow accustomed to.

He wakes not due to the tripping of his alarm or distant shouts, but due to Nott's hand connecting hard on his neck. He's up and sputtering, scrambling from the bed, not even realizing what just hit him, his heart racing, hand already starting the movements of his spell — sees Nott, her arm outsplayed, the dent in his pillow, and figures it out. His heart still pounding.

It is hot in this part of the world, hotter than Caleb will ever get used to: he's been sleeping in his undershirt and undershorts and bandages and still sweating, and Nott lies curled up wearing everything but her cloak. It is for that reason he assumes she is visibly sweating, even in the dim light of the one lantern he'd left burning.

Nott, who normally sleeps curled in a ball like a second cat, is splayed out, one hand clutching at her chest, over her heart, the other flung away, pushing out, until it had accidentally slapped Caleb awake. He starts to smile at the image of her, the odd pose, but: the sweat on her brow. The contortion of her face. Suddenly she kicks out with one tiny leg and he realizes: she is having a nightmare.

Her mouth moves silently.

When he was young, Caleb had been told that if you wake up someone in the midst of a nightmare, they will have a heart attack and die. He remembers informing his parents of this fact and asking them to please remember not to wake him in the event. He remembers this now: a wive's tale, definitely. Probably.

He hesitates, though. Finally sits back at the edge of the bed — Nott curling in on herself now, by degrees, not her usual content little lump but tight and jagged, her hands clenching at the center of her breast. He takes her by one shoulder and shakes. "Nott," he says. "Nott the Brave; Nott."

She gasps awake with a mumbled and confused — "Stop I can't—" her eyes fly open glazed and unseeing and she pushes him, kicks at him and punches and squirms backwards as she throws him away with surprising force and fury, her eyes wide with terror. He has seen her hiss and snarl — she is a goblin, he has seen her bite — but there is something different in her manner…

He sees for only about a second before she pushes him off the bed and onto his ass on the floor. Where he blinks for a second, confused and concerned and not quite sure what just happened.

"Caleb?" a small voice squeaks from the bed.

"Ah… _ja_?" He rubs at the small of his back. Nott doesn't say anything, and he climbs to his feet uncertainly.

She's burrowed herself into the blankets so that only her eyes, big and yellow and glowing, are visible. Her pupils huge in her terror. "I - I'm sorry, did I hit you?"

"Ah… _ja_ ," Caleb says again, sitting down cautiously at the edge of the bed again. So. You don't get a heart attack if you wake up, you give it to the one who wakes you. "You were having a nightmare."

"I was," says Nott.

"Is this because of our plans tomorrow?"

"Maybe," she says cagily, burrowing her nose further into the blanket, so she resembles nothing so much as a dim and woolen big-eyed lump.

Their relationship is not built on asking questions, but she says nothing and so he feels as though just this once he must. "Nott… what is it that makes you so frightened of water?" he asks, leaning across the bed towards her, reaching out with one hand.

He watches her eyes flicker downwards and knows she does not wish to respond. And that is how he will leave it. She has never pressed him, never forced him to answer to her, has never looked or treated him differently, even after learning of his parents, had even offered her forgiveness, unconditionally and undeserved: he will not push her in turn, repay her kindness with force.

He exhales very slowly.

"Do you… remember the story I told you?" Nott says softly, almost too quietly to be heard over the creaking of the ship. "You and everyone else? About my goblin clan, and the halfling man who… was my friend? And how I was a _good_ goblin and I helped him get away and that's when I left too?"

"Yes, of course I do," he says, and then waits.

"That…" Nott's silent for a long, quiet stretch, her hunched posture slowly drooping in her bundle, her yellow eyes darting like searchlights down at the bed. "…wasn't entirely true."

"What was untrue about it?"

"There's no such thing as a good goblin."

 

 

 

 

He lies awake for a very long time. She's awake

much longer.


End file.
